Never Leave
by Dagron
Summary: "You can come with me!" Adora says, pleading. Catra scowls at the walls of the First One's temple. It would be the sensible option. But she can't. Even considering it makes Catra feel ill, wrong. It's like there's a curse on her, preventing her from ever truly considering it. You can never leave the Horde.


**Never Leave**

* * *

**You can never leave; you hear me child? You can never leave the Horde. This shall be where you belong now.**

The voice is loud, piercing through her skull. She feels sore, rattled. There are bindings on her arms, her legs. There's a hard surface pressed against her back. Her head hurts, it hurts so much.

**Do you hear me?! **

* * *

You can never leave the Horde.

This is something Catra has always known. It always felt redundant when their instructors warned them against defecting. There is no defecting. You belong to the Horde. Or you die.

At least, that was until Adora left.

* * *

The door breaks open with a hiss and a loud grating noise. It groans as she pulls it open further. Sparkles nearly loses her footing as air wooshes out. The ship lurches, turbulence from re-entering the atmosphere is the explanation flashing up on the console nearby. 'Strap yourselves in,' it suggests, as if Catra and Queen Glitter haven't had enough of being tied down.

"Come on!" Catra yells into the wind. She reaches out her hand, pulls Glimmer's as she leads the way out onto the shuttle's wing. Her claws keep them anchored, each step an awkward crawl. She can feel the other girl's magic thrumming beneath her fingers, a tingling sensation. She might be out of Prime's magic inhibitor's range soon.

"Glimmer!" It's not a voice Catra expects to hear. Certainly not at this altitude. It's freezing, and it's hard to see for all the wind whipping her hair onto her face. It stings. For a moment she wonders if the rations on Horde Prime's ship were laced with hallucinogens. It's Adora, on her stupid flying horse. Not She-Ra: Adora, the sword nowhere to be seen.

Adora's waving, but her hand seems to falter as she notices Catra.  
"Oh hey, it's that mean Cat lady!" Her mount scoffs. He huffs, angling his snout into an expression of pure disdain.

Catra doesn't have time for this. She tugs onwards. They need to reach the tip of the wing, to get out of range of Horde Prime's magic cancelling device so that Glimmer can teleport out. Only Glitter is resisting. Why?

Catra turns to scowl at the young queen. They have a plan damn it. Sparkles looks white as a sheet, staring at Adora with fear etched into her features. Ah. Not fear, guilt.

Catra can understand that now.

A loud swooshing sound announces the arrival of another ship along theirs. It's the Vessel of the previous She-Ra, the one from the Crimson Wastes. Catra is impressed to see it flying. Bow's handiwork, she presumes. The shuttle beneath them shudders, she fights to tighten her grip on the wing beneath them. Alarms are blaring from within the shuttle. She looks up. Other shuttles are descending from the mother ship, coming after them. Ah. They've noticed their escape then.

"Hey, Adora!" Catra yells as loud as she can. "Catch!"

With one smooth motion, she jerks Glimmer off her feet, sending her flying towards Adora and her horse. Glimmer seems stunned, taking a moment before her features morph into outrage.

Catra only watches long enough to make sure Adora catches Sparkles. Her claws rip into metal as Catra leaps towards the wing's engine. She has no intention of leaving, but she is going to take this ship out with her.

* * *

"You can come with me!" Adora says, pleading.

Catra scowls at the walls of the First One's temple. It would be the sensible option. Especially after... After seeing Shadow Weaver prepared to wipe Adora's memories clean. But she can't. Even considering it makes Catra feel ill, wrong. It's like there's a curse on her, preventing her from ever truly considering it. She thinks back to her earliest memory, of herself trussed up on that same table.

She wonders what it was she lost.

* * *

It never makes sense, to Catra, growing up, why Shadow Weaver goes out of her way to pick on her. It's like the mere act of being present in the room makes the sorceress cross. It's why Catra is so quick to learn stealth, she learns to hide when Shadow Weaver isn't expecting to see her, though it's hard. Their mentor seems to have a sixth sense, able to pinpoint Catra's location more than three times out of four. Still, Catra manages to hide from Shadow Weaver enough to notice how she acts around others. Shadow Weaver barely seems to notice Kyle and Rogelio. Even Lonnie rarely gets more than a passing glance. When alone, Shadow Weaver just seems broody and sullen most of the time. The sorceress will stand straighter, even hover a little if she suspects Lord Hordak or Force Captains are near, but the most dramatic change in her demeanour only happens when either Catra is in the room or...

Well, it never sits right with Catra how Shadow Weaver's attitude changes when Adora is around.

If Shadow Weaver seems instantly irate around young Catra, being near Adora seems to brew a strange hunger into the witch's mood. Her voice turns to honey and Adora becomes her sole focus. Even if Catra is in the room, Shadow Weaver's focus is still Adora; if she turns to Catra, it's always to make a point. Look Catra, look what a hindrance you are to Adora. Look Adora, look at what you are making me do.

Catra sometimes wonders if they are treated differently because they are the only cadets whose ancestry is not known. Rogelio and Kyle are both children of dead Horde soldiers. Lonnie's father was a Rebellion soldier who defected to the Horde long before she was born. Only Catra and Adora know nothing of their birth. Catra suspects Shadow Weaver knows more.

* * *

It's tempting, so very, very tempting. When Scorpia points out that she and Catra could stay in the Crimson Wastes. Catra finds herself considering it. It's not like Hordak didn't send her there with the expectation that she would not return. It wouldn't be like defecting to fight the Horde, or joining the Rebellion... It would just be as simple as choosing not to go back.

Only it could never be that simple. It just takes a few words with Adora for the curse on Catra to fully retake its hold on her. The notion of staying evaporates, leaving in its place a sick compulsion. Catra feels like throwing up, as her body falls into a trance. They are going back.

It hurts. It hurts even more because now she's had a taste of happiness.

It hurts because she's not allowed to leave the Horde, but Shadow Weaver can.

* * *

Catra remembers Entrapta showing her statistics comparing her time as commander of the Horde with Shadow Weaver's. The numbers had been a cause for delight at the time. All positive, with a few exceptions, which Entrapta was quick to point out should still be positives, really.

Catra returns to those graphs in the aftermath of the portal incident. She's grieving, she realises, but she shouldn't. Entrapta was a friend, and Catra sent her into exile. Bad guys don't grieve for those they hurt. Catra is a bad guy now. She knows it in the pain in her jaw from Adora's punch, from She-Ra's glare, from the memory of her corrupted self and the poison in her words... Her face and arm still tingle from where darkness consumed them.

Catra stares at the graph showing Horde defection rates. She never was surprised to see that defection was always high under Shadow Weaver: mostly cadets and soldiers on their early missions. Those most likely to be affected by her poor leadership, her lies. Of those defectors, a high percentage died: also, unsurprising. Catra remembers hearing what happened to fellow cadets who ran away when she was growing up. It wasn't a pleasant way to go. It made Shadow Weaver's reaction to Adora's defection very surprising. The thought of having Adora killed never once crossed the Sorceress's mind.

Catra knows that if she'd been able to run away as a child, she would have. She also knows that Shadow Weaver would have killed her herself.

Following Adora's defection, defection rates in the Horde dropped dramatically. Unsurprising, Entrapta had said, considering that it coincided with the appearance of She-Ra. People are unlikely to defect when there's an unknown entity of such power to consider. It was a momentary blip however, rates soon returning to their norm. In fact, they began to rise as battles started regularly turning in the Rebellion's favour.

Catra taps the screen to scroll further along the data. Turns out, her replacing Shadow Weaver had a dramatic effect on the numbers. Horde Loyalty reached its highest point under Catra's leadership. Defection rates were consistently low for months. Another sign of Catra's efficiency, Scorpia had said with a warm smile. Catra fights a sniffle, forces herself to not throw the tablet against the wall. The reminder hurts. That time period was when she thought she'd finally cracked it. She'd thought she had found her purpose... Only for it to all be thrown out because for one godawful day she'd thought Shadow Weaver had ever cared about her.

It was no surprise that defection rates rose after that. Shadow Weaver's escape had rattled Catra, thrown a spanner in the works. A rattled leader means rattled followers. Of course, people would leave.

It's been two weeks since the portal incident. The figure has been steadily rising, despite the lack of battles, the respite.

There's been no respite for Catra. Her dreams hound her, her sleep a constant torment torn between nightmares and reminders of what-could-have-been from that portal's strange reality.

The worst part, really, is that even in the Portal's reality, Catra never considered leaving the Horde. It doesn't matter that in it, Shadow Weaver cared for her, didn't have that strange limp or tightness to her wrist. In the portal world, Catra had been Adora's equal... Until Adora ruined it. Until Adora made Catra the bad guy.

Well, if Catra is to be the bad guy, she might as well be The Bad Guy.

She thought killing everyone with the Portal would have allowed her to leave. If there's no Horde left, well, Win-Win, right? But no, she thinks, as she finally lashes out, shattering the tablet against the wall of her quarters. Death wasn't her way out. Had never been, really.

If she wants free of the Horde's control, well, she'd best control the Horde.

She doesn't look at the graph after that. Defections rise sharply in the months that follow. After the defection of a notoriously loyal Force Captain, they skyrocket.

* * *

"Why did you do it?" Glimmer asks. Her sparkles are faded. Whatever Horde Prime's science division came up with after the interrogation is affecting her magic. Catra frowns.

"Do what?" She asks. She feels tired. She's been a part of the Horde her whole life. She knows intimately how they operate.

"Help me." Glitter says pointedly.

Catra looks at the queen, the princess who's thwarted her for so many battles, the one who showed Adora the way out of the Horde when she'd never been looking. Catra realises, with a pang, that she has always been looking for a way out, just never able to take it.

She thinks back to Double Trouble. Their words were sharp, delivered with scalpel like precision.  
'_Your heart was never in it._'

'_That's my wildcat,_' Scorpia would say, with affection, the emotion usually prompted by something Catra did without thinking. Catra never did tell Scorpia how much she appreciated the nickname; she was always too ashamed that it didn't line up with Horde ideals. Maybe she should embrace it.

'_I know you are a good person, Catra!_' Adora's trust, so blinding, so misplaced... Yet... Adora always knew her better than anyone.

"Maybe I don't know," Catra replies. She doesn't know who she is anymore. Maybe she never knew. She shrugs when Glimmer scowls.

"I..." Catra thinks back to Glimmer, in the Black Garnet chamber. It had been hard to follow her there with her injuries. The fresh smell of Ozone had forced Catra to collapse against a fallen piece of ceiling. It was overwhelming, stronger than she could ever remember from all the times Shadow Weaver had used the stone's power on her. Catra could see Glimmer hurting. She could see her fighting. Catra had felt Glimmer's desperation as if it were her own.

"I just..."

When Hordak had come into the chamber, Catra had hid more on instinct than actual thought. She was in no state to fight, her spirit broken, her wounds too fresh. And then seeing Hordak try to take Glimmer out with a broken metal girder?

Catra's heart hadn't been able to take it. Being teleported up to Horde Prime's ship with the two? It felt like just her luck. Another tally to the universe in its vendetta against her. But seeing Horde Prime touch Glimmer's face like that? Well, the shorn tufts behind her ears had burned with indignation, and a fire burning in her chest forced her to her feet.

For the longest time, Catra wondered if she even had a heart left in her. Now, sitting on the floor in Horde Prime's ship. She knows the answer.

"I couldn't stand by and do nothing." Catra finally says.

Glimmer tilts her head. She's reassessing her. Catra doesn't really want to know what she sees. Mercifully, Glimmer just nods and keeps quiet.

* * *

Seeing Scorpia again... It's terrifying. And fun. Because Catra thought she'd never see the Scorpion Woman again. She's missed her. She's hurt her. By the Horde, Catra has no idea what to say to her.

So, she hides on the rooftop, behind doorways and curtains. She scuppers away when she catches her scent coming closer, only to find a perch and watch. It's not like her. Adora tells her that much. Despite that, Catra thinks that Adora understands. There are layers of hurt that will take time to mend between them, but they still grew up together.

So Catra hides, Adora huffs, and Catra watches as Scorpia chases after Emily, dotes on Princess Frosta, laughs as Entrapta clips wires to her claws in the name of science.

Scorpia has powers now. Catra finds it hard to comprehend. Bolts of lightning fire from her pincer tips, make Entrapta's coils sing. She looks like she's having the time of her life.

Scorpio's smell has changed. It's overlaid now with the Black Garnet's ozone scent... and something else. The clean smell after a storm? Petrichor? It confuses Catra to no end, because she's always associated the Black Garnet's smell with Shadow Weaver, with being punished.

Still, she wouldn't be in Bright Moon now if not for Scorpia's powers. And the Rebellion. And Adora...

Catra lets out a sob. She shouldn't be here. Why did they take her in? Why did Sparkles go back for her?

Scorpia's eyes find hers. The woman smiles at her, and its bittersweet. She doesn't call out, or wave. Just returns to what she was doing, sharing tea with Perfuma it seems.

She's giving her space, Catra realises. She's still her friend. Catra doesn't deserve her, but she's glad.  
The next time she comes across Scorpia in the corridors, she doesn't run. She doesn't hide.

"Hey Wildcat," Scorpia says, after being bowled over. She smiles. Catra hugs her, tight.

* * *

"I don't believe it! It's you! After all these years..."

Catra isn't really listening. She's still out of breath from taking out the last of the clones between them and the reprogramming unit on Horde Prime's ship. Adora is similarly puffed out, leaning on her staff as she eyes Catra warily. The two of them accompanied Entrapta to the door's console, and now stand guard next to her as Glimmer's team arrive from luring out the rest of the Horde's defences.

"Nearly there... Just a little more." Entrapta mutters. Catra still isn't sure that this is a good idea. Entrapta's hair has been noticeably twitchy near her, and the idea of retrieving what remains of Hordak? Well, Catra really isn't wanting to go for round two. She must trust that the rebellion has some plan to justify this.

"Dad..." Glimmer's voice says. "This is-"

"C'yra!" It's only then that Catra takes note. The short man with the greying black hair and beard makes a beeline for her, arms open wide as though to hug her. She yelps and steps back. His hands land on her shoulders and he laughs. "No need to look so startled. It's me, uncle Micah! Don't you remember me?"

Catra stares with wide eyes, catches the similarly stunned faces of the rest of the group. Arrow-boy looks like he's away to burst with questions, whereas Sparkles is holding her face in her palms. It's the curious glance that Adora throws her that snaps Catra out of her stunned silence.

It's easy to throw her arms up and push the old man back. It's harder to face his startled expression.  
"What did you just call me?!" She cries. She feels her tail lashing against her legs, her claws flexing. The name is wrong, but... it doesn't feel wrong?

"What? But you must be... Those eyes, that head guard..." The man looks confused, frowns. He puts his hands on her cheeks, angles her face so he can see better. Catra is too weirded out to even growl.

"Dad?" Glimmer interrupts, causing him to blissfully release her. "This, this is Catra."

Glimmer's father's eyes grow wide. There's understanding behind them, and no small touch of fear.

"Catra, this is my father Micah."

King Micah? Of the rebellion? Wasn't he dead?

"You're... Catra?" Micah's face darkens, his grip tightening on his wooden staff. "What did that traitor do to you?!"

There's no time to ask for explanations. Lightning strikes at the door to their corridor. Catra hears the battle cries of the other princesses.

"Guys! We got incoming!"

Getting into a battle stance is instinctual as always. As always, the Horde is coming for her. She wonders for a second, as she watches this Micah blast away a group of clones, if there was maybe a time where she didn't belong to the Horde.

* * *

"It was good, you know?" Adora says, as they share a bowl of sweets, sat on the roof of the Crystal Palace. The temple is dark now. No spiders any more, no creepy holograms or light shows. It's just another ruin, a vantage point from which the two can watch the stars. Adora likes to hide here when the politics of Etheria become too much. Catra followed. Adora didn't seem to mind.

"What was good?" Catra asks, stretching her arms up to the sky. She likes the stars. They twinkle, like Queen Glimmer's hair, like Scorpia's eyes when Catra makes her smile, like the sugared candy in the bowl in Adora's lap. She yawns and lets herself fall onto her back.

It's good to be free. She thinks. It's good to have her best friend back.

"Seeing you put some meat on those skinny bones of yours," Adora nudges her playfully in the bicep. "I used to worry about you not eating enough. But you always refused the rations I smuggled for you when we were growing up."

"Blame Shadow Weaver's A Class parenting," Catra mutters. She shoves Adora back, waggling her eyebrows. "When did you first notice?"

"In the Crimson Wastes, I guess?" Adora replies, rubbing her hand through her hair. "You felt heavier when we... We fought to get Mara's ship back."

"That," Catra says with a smirk, "was DT! Hah!" Catra giggles. "Can't believe you still had't figured that one out!"

"What, Double Trouble? Really?! Ugh!" Adora's groan is delightful, followed by a tender smile and a shake of the head. "Still, it was nice to see you looking after yourself more."

"You can thank Scorpia for that," Catra says, sitting up. She casts her gaze towards Horror Hill, the construction site that has been made of the remains of the fright zone. Once the dust settled after Horde Prime's defeat, Scorpia lead Lonnie and company back to reclaim her family's lost kingdom. Scorpia had asked Catra if she wanted to join her there.

Catra thinks back to all the meals, cups of tea and blankets the woman had provided unprompted. It was nice to be looked after like that. Catra wishes she'd been able to appreciate it better then.

"She is good to you," Adora says, leaning on Catra's shoulder, as close to a hug as the two used to get.

"Com'here," Catra says, her voice muffled as she pulls Adora into a hug. She's done denying herself the things she needs. If Adora's offering her comfort, she's going to make sure she does it right.

Adora's arms tighten around Catra's torso. Catra finds her face tucked under Adora's chin. Her chest feels ready to burst. It's still hard, coping with emotions. She's learning. Scorpia, Adora, Glimmer and her friends, they're helping, but it's Catra who needs to put in the work. She needs to be honest with herself, to let herself feel. Adora doesn't seem surprised to feel the tears streaking down Catra's cheeks.

"Will you go join her there? Help her rebuild?" Adora's voice is gentle, careful.

"I... I can't..." And Catra hates that she's not ready, that she still has so far to go before she can be truly happy. Just the thought of going back to what is still in her mind the fright zone stings. "It's still... Too raw. Being there..."

"That's okay," Adora says. And it suffices. She doesn't offer a way to fix it or try to change her mind. She cards her fingers through Catra's hair, and it helps.

* * *

Seeing Shadow Weaver, after everything is said and done, feels underwhelming...

King Micah's done his best to explain to Catra what happened, back on that battlefield where she was stolen away as an infant, where he was presumed to have died. The Horde, under Shadow Weaver's leadership, had led its greatest assault yet against the territory of Half Moon. Micah was there to aid in its defence, only to be relegated to evacuation efforts. The Magicats, the people of Half Moon, had entrusted him with leading their children, the weak and the old, to some hidden caves. Shadow Weaver had been waiting for him, ready to pounce when she saw him carrying the child of the Magicat leader.

Shadow Weaver is tending to flowers, pruning trees and planting seeds... It's odd to see her doing something so menial. It's odd to watch her stroke a leaf with care, no honeyed words coming from her mouth, no lies.

During the battle, she'd been ready to kill infant Catra, Micah had been quite clear about that. He'd cast a ward on the sorceress, he said, forced upon her a compulsion, a curse, to stop her.

"Catra." Shadow Weaver stands. She doesn't hover, there's no hunch, when she walks towards the magical barrier, there's no limp. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The prison yard of Mysticor is still much fancier than any sanctum in the Fright Zone ever was, but it's a lot less lax than Bright Moon. Sorcerers stand guard vigilantly, renewing their sigils with zeal. Catra had to go through three layers of checks to face her old mentor. The head of the school of Sorcerers stands at the door, personally waiting for Catra's signal should anything be amiss.

Catra looks Shadow Weaver up and down. She removes her face guard.  
"Your mask off, please." She says.

Catra's has a theory, ever since she learned of Shadow Weaver's past as Light Spinner. It tallies with how the Sorceress's presence on the battlefield became less and less, even though she played such an active part in the Horde's victories when Catra was small. She needs to see for herself though, before she dares to believe it.

Shadow Weaver narrows her gaze at Catra, seems to consider lashing out with words.

"It's nothing I've not seen before," Catra nudges, shrugs.

There's nothing to be gained by arguing. Shadow Weaver removes her mask, a small tremor in her hand. Her mouth is an angry gash, her eyes still with deformed irises, glaring at her.

"What do you want." The prisoner spits. Catra just looks at her. She's impressed Shadow Weaver is letting her see her face.

The gnarled mess of scars that Catra remembers, raw and pulsing, is gone. All that remains is a blemish: white lines criss-crossing her former mentor's face. Her eyes are no longer bloodshot, faint tufts of hair now exist where formerly she had no eyebrows. It's odd. Catra thinks she can see, now, the figure of Light Spinner in Shadow Weaver's features.

"Sparkles did mention that Adora healed you back then..." Catra says, finding her theory confirmed. When Glimmer had mentioned how Shadow Weaver had gone to the Rebellion near death, Catra hadn't really believed it. Shadow Weaver had been such a towering figure during her childhood, it was hard to picture her as mortal, but the more she thought of it since, the more it made sense. "You knew, didn't you? You always knew that Adora would become She-Ra."

All was clear, now: Those training sessions where Catra had gotten hurt, and, when Shadow Weaver had arrived, her first instinct had always been to look to Adora. It explained why Shadow Weaver always singled out Catra for punishment, knowing full well how Adora cared for her.

"I... suspected." Shadow Weaver confirmed, her mask returning to her face. Catra let her. She'd seen what she came to see.

"King Micah told me you were a teacher once..." A proper one, Light Spinner had nurtured the talent of several successful Sorcerers, with patience and understanding. It was only during Micah's years as a student that she'd turned to mistruth and manipulation, her fear of the Horde clouding her judgment.

"Those days are long behind me now..." Shadow Weaver turns her back on Catra, clearly done with the conversation. There's no stoop in her walk, no pain in her movements, but she looks old.

"Farewell, Shadow Weaver." Catra says. It feels right. She won't be seeing her again.

"Oh, Catra," Shadow Weaver calls out as Catra heads towards the door, her head guard back on. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry."

The apology isn't worth much. Catra knows that Shadow Weaver is never going to leave this prison. Her crimes against Etheria during the invasion of Horde Prime were too grave to ignore. But it's something. It's more than she'd ever hoped for really.

"Thank you," Catra says to Castapella as they leave. Glimmer's aunt nods, clasps her hand on Catra's shoulder and leaves. Catra turns to the arrival platform where her friends await.

"Catra!" Scorpia cries, rushing up to envelop her in a crushing hug. "How did it go?"

"Fine," Catra replies, once she's wriggled enough to have room to breathe. She smiles. "I'm fine Scorpia. I just wanted to check something before we leave. Now I have."

Scorpia looks her over before her smile brightens. Catra truly feels fine. She's in love. She has friends. Thanks to Adora, Micah and the others, she's found her true family, hidden away under Half Moon. She knows now who she is, who she was. She's free.

"The coordinates Entrapta sent me are punched in," Bow calls out from the door to Mara's ship. Adora's ship now. "We're ready to go when you are."

"Alright!" Glimmer punches the air with a wide grin.

"You still sure about coming with Sparkles?" Catra nudges her. It's only been a couple of months since Angella returned from the rift. They don't know how long they're going to be away for.

"Like any of you could stop me from coming." Glimmer smirks, a clear challenge in the way she crosses her arms.

"I'm glad to have you with us," Adora says, before any bickering starts. "Come on, before Swift Wind changes his mind and demands to come aboard."

They clamber on, one after another, leaving Adora and Catra last to board.  
"Let's go find your family, Princess," Catra says, grabbing her best friend around the shoulders.

"Yes, let's," and Adora's smile makes it worth it.

* * *

**Fin**

_Author's note: I recommend checking out this fic over on AO3 for awesome illustrations. _


End file.
